


Every Storm

by facade



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Ficlet, Implied Relationship, M/M, Mild Angst, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 11:22:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6327043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/facade/pseuds/facade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'd create a summary but I'm fairly confident I can fit the entire ficlet into this little box.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Storm

**Author's Note:**

> Also a work that preceded BM. I'm about to format the hard drive I have this stored on to make more room for my DVR'd matches but I hoard my writings on the same level that I hoard recorded matches (and on the same level older, single women hoard cats) so... Alternative storing measures. I refuse to edit this one, as well, but I did remove the italicized text and place parenthesis around whatever had been emphasized as the amount of italicized text within this and the consistency of it drove me mad. I left only the thought in italics.

The rain fell lightly against his flesh, light but falling nonetheless. He could feel it - (cold), see it - (faint streaks of moisture staining all things in their path). He could see the rainbow already trying to form, could see (an assurance) that this would soon be over – (a promise). Still the rain (fell). The clouds boomed angrily as the electrical collisions within them escaped (through the cracks) of their confines, (crashing down shattering and dispersing to the core of the earth).

He watched as the wind whispered (hollow assertions) to the trees, drawing a fine contrast to the booming heavens. Cool air rushed through the limbs and branches, gently plucking leaves only to send them (spiraling down) to the soil. Having not withstood the test of strength, the leaves drifted, (purposeless).

And just like that, (it was over. Unspoken, unheard, yet understood. It was time to move on beyond here); time to wash over another place and time to leave (in peace).

The light broke through, as he gently opened his eyes, bringing with it a revelation of all things made new by the storm.

_-_

Mesut looked up at the clear blue sky and shook his head in disbelief. ( _So much for a thirty percent chance of rain?_ ) he had thought as he pulled his eyes from blue and traded the sight for the cracked gray of the pavement; he could use it right now, could use something thought to make all things new, fresh. The silence ticked on, for too long almost and he traded the gray for the form of Sergio and attempted to pull together all of the strength and resolve he could muster for what he was about to say - for what he was about to do.

The Sevillan had been deep in thought for the past thirty minutes, simply sitting there with his eyes closed. When Mesut had first told him of what he had done - what he had done with Sami, of all people - he had been expecting an explosion of sorts, something catastrophic, something telling - not this. He had known that there was no way that they were going to push through all of this, had known it was only a matter of time before…

Sergio gently opened his eyes, gently redirecting his pensive gaze to the German’s eyes, and smiled the softest of smiles.

-

((Cold, faint streaks of moisture staining all things in their path. An assurance, a promise, fell through the cracks crashing down, shattering and dispersing to the core of the earth. Hollow assertions spiraling down: purposeless. It was over. Unspoken, unheard, yet understood. It was time to move on beyond here, in peace)).


End file.
